


Seperate Ways

by SBlackmane



Series: Unrequited [3]
Category: Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Animosity, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Major Fable 3 Spoilers, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Obsession, Regret, Separation, Sibling Incest, Single Parents, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9288863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBlackmane/pseuds/SBlackmane
Summary: Adalia has fled Bowerstone.Logan is driven mad with her missing, finding himself in a downward spiral, and meanwhile the Hero of Brightwall emerges. Separated from one another, Logan searches his feelings, deals with his regrets, and Adalia becomes a mother, searches for hope in a darkened world, and settles on vengeance after witnessing yet another execution of a close friend...





	

**Author's Note:**

> (Loosely follows main and minor quests, leading up to 'Traitors', with added non-canon, of course. There _will_ be spoilers.)

     In the darkness Logan paced, slowly, contemplating his actions, his words, his fervor, his emotions. It was not him, was it? It was not him that spoke such terminal words to Her Grace, not truly, but yet the words fell from his tongue. And he regretted it. He humiliated her. He put her in his shoes, and she ultimately proved what kind of person she was. Just what she was willing to sacrifice. And he found she was not lacking. It was true. She was a stranger. She was nothing like he ever imagined she would be. She was... _better_. Adalia was not the girl he remembered.

     He went to her chamber that night, to admit that yes, he would do whatever was necessary to protect her, including putting to death those that protested on the castle grounds. Should the riot have gotten out of hand, he would not sit idle and leave her to her own devices, but would put them to death before they ever touched her. The people of Albion needed control, obedience, and by right, they should obey their King. But of course, she didn't see that, did she? That yes, admittedly, he was a jealous man, but he gave her a choice. To choose that wretched boy that turned her against him, or choose him. And there, she chose neither. She chose her own death. Giving him the knowledge that she would rather die than be left to such an ultimatum. Her selflessness was commendable, and would be her undoing. The truth, every dark and gritty detail he would tell her. Pour out his soul, his fears, his insecurities. Force her to understand how sacrifices must be made for the greater good of Albion.

     But when he entered her chamber, she was gone. The room was empty, and no sound could be heard but the crackling fire that still burned in the pit. It enraged him. He knew who was at fault, knew exactly who it was to blame. He would send out a search party for her, but he was certain she was already long gone, through a hidden exit that none other than Walter Beck knew the location of. He was certain then, that he'd been cast in the shadows. Certain that the old fool thought she was a Hero, just like their father, and he, as well as all of Albion condemned Logan as their villain. It was an interesting thought, and for a moment, Logan dwelled on the implications of this possibility.

     He stood in her room for a while, staring at it. It had been cleaned, except for a cup of tea that a maid must not have noticed, for it still sat on a bench by the window. He walked over to it, picking up the cup, the cold liquid sloshing about as he contemplated where she would go, what she would do, before slamming the china to the floor, its contents spilling across it, seeping into the brocade.

     Then he left the room and returned to his study, then eventually the war room that stood empty, dormant, but something else was there in the dark corners of the room. He could feel it, he could almost see it. The way the shadows danced and almost became something more, something darker, more sinister. The one thing that made him feel alive was now gone, ripped from him, and in her place was a cloud of darkness, taunting him, dangling her before him, then ripping her away, and it left him in unrest, clenching and unclenching his fists over and over until his knuckles were white. Seeing her before his eyes, the guilt spread across her features, followed by hatred and utter contempt of him, then hearing her imagined laughter from somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

     It was there that he paced, and there, as he looked over the dimensional map of Albion before him, that he spoke, unrelenting in his hatred, to the darkness that waited out there, waited to claim everything he desired. Claim his country for its own. Claim Adalia as well. It was no person that he spoke to. But to the shadows, fuming at them. Rebelling against them, clenching his jaw. This was his realm, and his alone. He was ruler of it, and no one else. He alone would prevail, even if it turned him into the very thing he fought.

     "This is my Albion." he said to the darkness of the room. "Its cities will bow to my law, or they will burn...Its mountains will bend to my will, or they will fall...This is my Albion." he whispered. "Its people will do as I say, or they will die...Its future will be as I decree or it will end...I've seen what must be done, and nothing will stand in my way. We will be greater, and we will be stronger, no matter what sacrifices we must make. This is my Albion, and I will see it destroyed before I surrender it."

     He turned to leave the room, leaving the shadows behind him, old, tired, hallow, and alone, but not weak. Not conceding, and ever determined, regardless.

     "Everything I do is because of you, little sister." he said to no one at all.

* * *

     It had been an interesting adventure so far.

     The Catacombs had led to a secret exit below Bowerstone, through the sewers no less, and at its end, and interesting device. A Cullis Gate, a magical transportation system of sorts, one for Heroes, and in the blink of an eye, through the gate being activated by her own magic, she was spirited away, halfway across the world she guessed, or in between, one or the other. To her father's Sanctuary. Where Jasper made himself as comfortable with the place as he could, and Walter revealed his plan to gain allies, and Adalia was safe from Logan's clutches until she was strong enough to take back her kingdom. _Her_ kingdom. An interesting notion.

     Walter had thought it a fine idea to start with the people of Mistpeak. The Dwellers, a tribe of gypsies. Most loyal to her father before her, but also the most downtrodden folk, some of the most oppressed by Logan. Out in the harsh weather, the blizzards of the mountains, left to starve with Logan's hunting restrictions, his oppressive policies, but the most stubborn folk she'd ever met, and Adalia sort of liked Sabine. A charismatic individual that struck a deal with Adalia, that if she would help the Dwellers, and convince the people of Brightwall to lend them food and supplies, he would be more than happy to ally himself with Adalia's cause. And Spark certainly liked his big, sluggish oaf of a bodyguard, Boulder.

     Helping the people of Mistpeak certainly led to interesting situations as well, and she could hardly believe that already a couple of months went by, when she sat in the tavern at Brightwall, across from Walter, who was pouring her a drink. She'd successfully gained the favor of both the Dwellers and the people of Brightwall, even earning the title of 'Hero of Brightwall', no less. It had been fun, and confusing, to say the least, filled with talking doors, hidden ruins, dangers and thrills, mercenary disguises, a chicken suit at one point, and a horrible play put on for the town by dolts. The Ham Sandwhich. No one understood it, let alone thought it was entertaining, and Adalia learned to _never_ mix tragedy with comedy. It was met with poor reviews, including that of a passing chicken with a decent understanding of human language.

     At any rate, she'd successfully won over Mistpeak, ensured supplies to the Dwellers, and made promise to eventually reopen the Academy that her own father founded, once she was in power, and promised Sabine she'd make good on her vow to keep the Dwellers on their land, free to hunt, and free to live. They supported her undoubtedly. Walter thought it might be nice to celebrate that evening before they continued the plan, and jumped right in to the more difficult tasks ahead. But there was something on Adalia's mind that night. Something she couldn't be sure of admitting until then, and there was no way to avoid it. She'd already tried.

* * *

     She'd cut her hair to a boyish length, dressed in the plainest clothes she could find, and discreetly traveled to Bowerstone. Disguised as a traveler, and far from resemblance to the missing Princess, of whom there were posters all over Bowerstone market and industrial quarter. Wearing a simple, loose fitting blouse, bound in a beige corset, brown pants, and boots, cloak draped over her shoulders, though with her pistol holstered in the crook of her arm, just in case. She'd heard of a doctor there that could get her out of this mess, and she'd made it all the way to the market when she stopped cold. Heart racing in her chest. What the hell was she doing?...She sighed, and just stood there, contemplating what sort of thought in her mind could lead her to considering doing such a thing as taking the life of an unborn child. But...it was Logan's child.

     The sound of shouting in the square brought her out of her thoughts, and she could see people gathering at the gates of Bowerstone castle. Things were getting worse, and they would only continue to, until she managed to get enough people on her side to overthrow Logan. She followed the shouts, and stood at the back of the crowd, watching as a figure stood on the other side of the gate, turning up his nose at the people. Shots were fired. No one killed, but warning shots, and the crowd dispersed. When it did, Adalia could make out the figure on the other side.

     The King himself, turning just then to walk away when he stopped, and for just a moment, made eye contact with her. Did he recognize her? Surely not, for she barely recognized herself when she looked in the mirror. But his eyes met hers for a second or two, and for that second or two, well, she didn't rightly know what she saw in those eyes, but she saw something. She could shoot him right then and there, couldn't she? She knew how quickly she could aim and fire, for she was far from the novice girl she'd been months ago. But she couldn't do it. There was no honor in it. She lingered a second longer before taking a deep breath and turning away, leaving the gates before she was made, and apprehended. Of course, she had no idea if Logan would actually kill her if he found her. The posters never said anything about wanting her dead. But rumor in the streets was that the King would pay handsomely for any information about her...

* * *

     She sighed as she sat across from Walter in Brightwall's tavern, reliving the memory of what she almost did, pushing away the drink in front of her.

     "I'm with child, Walter." she admitted. He raised a brow, said nothing, but gaped at her before leaning back in his chair. He was silent for a minute before finally sighing, then remarking on this information.

     "I...never knew you and Elliot were...so close." he said, gathering his own conclusion. "I'm so sorry. Must be hard for you. Losing him, and now you'll have a child that will grow up without a father." he stared at his drink, speaking solemnly. In a way, it was sort of the truth. Yes, her child would indeed grow up without a father.

     "I grew up without a mother." she reminded. "She'll be alright."

     He chuckled a little. "So sure already that it's a girl?"

     She shrugged. "He, she, it doesn't matter. I'm still going to love it, with all my heart. Of that I'm absolutely certain." She tried to hide the melancholy in her voice. But what she said was true. She would love Logan's child. Even if she hated him, for everything he'd done, and everything he'd taken from her, and the people of Albion. "But..." she sat forward in her chair. "I can't make any moves yet. Not until after the child is born. I won't put it in that kind of danger. Just thinking about the danger I've already exposed it to. Bandits, mercenaries, Hollow Men." she turned her nose up in thought of those ghastly creatures. "I may aspire to be a Hero to Albion, Walter, but I must first be a mother. What sort of person am I that I wouldn't first protect my unborn child?"

     "It's what your father would have done, I think." he admitted. "He would never have let your dear mother put you in that kind of danger either. What are you going to do then, Princess?" he asked. She huffed.

     "I'm not a Princess anymore, Walter. I'm...something else. I don't know what yet, but until my child is born, I'll be just an ordinary person, just like everyone else. But be ready. We've still got a revolution to inspire, don't we?" she smirked. "Until then, I don't know. Perhaps I'll make a decent baker. Never too late to learn, right?"

     Walter chuckled. "Right." he said. "If you need me, or Jasper, you know we're never too far away."

     "Yes, and neither is Logan." she reminded in a more serious tone. "I'm going to lay low in Brightwall. Keep me informed of his activities, will you? If things get too rough-"

     "I'll handle it." he assured. "You best just take care of my future niece or nephew." he joked, producing a chuckle from Adalia.

* * *

     Logan retreated inward as the days went by. He refused to leave the castle, refused to answer to the foolish people of Albion. If they did not obey, they were put to death, if necessary. Though at every moment, he kept expecting to see Adalia striding through the gate, coming back to him. But she never did. He could have sworn one day, when people stood outside the gates, paupers begging and pleading, causing a stir, that a face in the back of the crowd resembled hers. But it was just his imagination, wasn't it? Just the darkest corners of his heart letting him see what he wanted to see. The one person he longed for, and it ate him up inside.

     He put the royal funds where they needed to be, and carefully guarded the treasury with his life. Every sliver of gold was spent where necessary, and he didn't go back on his decisions. He made his choice. So did Adalia. She didn't choose him, and never would.

     Rumors of a rebellion were stirring, reaching his ears in Bowerstone. He'd been sending his men after the so called Bowerstone Resistance for some time now, but rumor had it they were making new allies. He was certain that Beck was behind it, or at least involved. He wondered if his sister was as well. He wondered if the next time they met, it would be in battle, with pistols pointed at one another. Rumors sparked of some anonymous Hero in the east, assisting the people of Mistpeak. It didn't deviate from his plans, so he let it be, and didn't bother to investigate. This anonymous Hero seemed to make his job easier, in truth, though it didn't make his people any more favored of him. He wondered who this Hero was. He wondered if it was her. Could it be so, that she truly shared the blood of the last Hero of Albion then? Could it really be that the girl he remembered from his youth was truly dead, and in her place, someone completely different? An interesting thought. One that sparked another.

     He wondered, for just a moment, if he were truly the rightful ruler of Albion.

* * *

     Adalia turned out to be an excellent baker, much to her surprise. A humble profession she found to rather enjoy, and promised to never take for granted. Money earned from helping the people of Mistpeak, and her own earnings as a humble baker, funded the purchase of a house there in Brightwall, Bumbler's Gruff, which wasn't too shabby, but in desperate need of repair. And lonely. It wasn't long before Adalia hired a maid, who soon became quite the sisterly companion, and before she knew it, she a Sofia were very close friends. The girl needed a job, and a place to live, and it seemed the perfect arrangement.

     She was more exited than Adalia for the child on the way. She didn't know much about birth, or motherhood, but she was a big help. She and Adalia would stay up late many nights, pouring over books borrowed from Brightwall Academy on the subject. But it wasn't caring for a child that Adalia was so vexed by, but being a mother. She'd never had one, and had never been one. She barely understood life outside the castle, let alone being a parent, though she desperately needed to put her old life behind her, and not dwell on it. At least for the time being.

     She never knew just how hard it was in Albion for a commoner until she lived as one. Of course, it was easier for her than most. She had magic. Had abilities most in Albion would only dream of having. And she had Jasper. But still, it wasn't easy. Not when she wanted to keep up appearances. And the hardest part was sleeping at night.

     She'd often dream of Logan, and she didn't know why, and certainly didn't _want_ to dream of him. But alas, she would, and she would relive the night he came to her room, the night before she left Bowerstone castle. She would be curled up in his arms, feeling his touch, and seeing something in his eyes she'd never seen before. Sadness. Regret. As if silently begging her forgiveness for all that he'd done, forgiveness she couldn't bring herself to give. And something else. Something she couldn't name, something in his gaze, lurking in his gloomy eyes, a deeper emotion. But then the dream would change, and become darker. She would see Elliot, hanging by a rope, lifeless eyes staring back at hers, and she would be held back by a crowd of people, pushing her back, pushing her away, and she would drown in the thickness of the crowd, then wake up in a sweat. She would sob quietly into her pillow, not wanting to disturb Sofia who slept just downstairs.

     She'd pour herself a cup of tea, but with no honey, as she couldn't afford it. Her money was better spent elsewhere. On necessities for the baby, as well as some investments. Property and stores, knowing full well in the back of her mind that the money would come in handy eventually, though not quite knowing why. Of course, though the rent money poured in, she refused to spend it on anything she didn't need. Became a little obsessive over it, actually. Obsessed over relinguishing the life she lived in Bowerstone as a spoiled, pampered Princess. It became religious, just about. She didn't know what else to do with herself as she patiently waited for her child to be born. And she'd stare at her cup of tea, seeing nothing but sour memories within it, then push it away, adverse to drinking it. Whether due to pregnancy, or the memory of tasting sweetness and warmth on her tongue and being reminded of Logan, she just simply couldn't' drink it. Grew to despise it.

* * *

     Logan would also dream of their night together.

     He would also toss and turn in his chamber as he struggled beneath the shadows, weighted by the growing darkness. Struggled to breathe, choking in his despair, inexplicable as it was. As desperate as it seemed to be. He'd hear her cry out in his dreams, but he couldn't find her. And the voices. The whispers, snickering, lurking somewhere nearby, and he'd search for the source, but never see it.

     The nightmares swallowing him whole.

     He would give up on sleep and revert to drinking, drowning his agitation, his discomfort, his sorrows, in strong liquor. He wondered if part of his problem was that he simply needed the touch of a woman, but there wasn't a woman in Albion he desired save for one. Adalia.

     Months had passed, months of straining to keep reason, to keep a coherent thought in his head, until he finally gave up altogether. He gave in, to the darker parts of his soul. As his sister left Bowerstone with the only light he possessed. And he hated her for it. Hated her with a burning passion. Hated that he couldn't live without her. He obsessed over her so. He...

     ...He loved her. But the love was not shared.

* * *

     Lydia was born at night, in pitch black, and how fitting that seemed to be. But, gods, she in no way resembled her father. She smiled constantly, and she looked exactly like Adalia, as far as she could tell. She cooed with a sweetness that her mother never thought possible for a babe to possess. She was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, and how her sparkling eyes seemed to light up a room. But...something about them. Sometimes, for just a second or two, they looked like her father's eyes, and it terrified Adalia.

     There wasn't a single person in Brightwall that didn't adore her. People were constantly bringing her gifts, and the house was filled with toys and clothes, cakes and candies, almost to the point that Lydia would be more spoiled than the Princess. But she wasn't. She never whined, never pouted. Not once. Wherever she got her sweetness from, her good nature, she certainly didn't get it from Adalia, as memories of her own childhood flooded back to her in watching her daughter grow. It must've been from her father. The boy he was before he grew to be a hateful, greedy, and awful man. She must've possessed the only goodness to be found within the King, for he certainly had none left.

     Adalia wasn't ready to let her go. But she needed to. Lydia wasn't the only child in Albion that needed protection. There were others out there, others that needed saving. That needed a Hero. It was a hard day indeed when she finally mustered up the courage to leave Lydia in Sofia's care. It broke her heart. She wanted desperately to be the mother to Lydia that she never got to have, but yet, there she was, leaving her, just as her mother left her, sadly. And who knew if she would ever return. If she didn't put a stop to Logan's cruel and heartless rule over the kingdom, she would certainly die trying.

     It gave her piece of mind that she and Jasper could use the Sanctuary's magic to keep an eye on Lydia, but it still felt wrong, that she should have to abandon her little girl. But the Sanctuary held another power. A portal that led to a place where none but Heroes ventured, and she found herself there, the misty and mythical place that metaphorically represented her path, passing through the gates, that led to the end goal. Taking control of Albion, and avenging her brother's wrongs. She found herself on the Road to Rule.

     _"This is not about revenge, Adalia." Theresa said to her. "This is about rising above the past, looking beyond it. This is about the future of all of Albion and its people. That is what it means to be a Hero. To see beyond yourself, your own wants and desires, in order to reach greatness. Your selflessness was the start. And you were right to spare your child, though she is the product of selfish deeds, she is an innocent. But there are many more innocents left in the cold. While you have lived comfortably in Brightwall, Logan's neglect of the people has worsened. You mustn't merely avenge Albion, Your Grace, you must heal it. Only then will you reach your goal. Reach within yourself."_

* * *

     It was hard to let go of vengeance, when it screamed to her. Elliot, and others, other innocents lost were crying out to her in her dreams. And the fateful day when she claimed the music box from the depths of the Reliquary within Brightwall's Academy, and opened it at Theresa's request...learning the truth of what her brother had become...a tyrant, a monster...ever since that day, she couldn't let it go. She knew she had to, but she couldn't. And she couldn't help but see his face at night, in her dreams, haunting her. Imagining their childhood. Wishing she hadn't been so selfish, so foolish, and realized what he bacame sooner. Perhaps she could have stopped him from ever turning down such a wicked path. But she couldn't change the past. That was why the Seer beseeched her not to dwell on it.

     She had to make a stand. She had no choice. She had to give herself to Albion and it's needs, if she ever hoped for Lydia to grow up without fear. With hope. She needed to give her, and the kingdom hope. She knew that. One small sliver of it could change everything.

     Strange, how as she contemplated that, the power of hope, she briefly thought of Logan. Wondering if their was any hope for him. Would there ever be a future where she could turn him from his wicked ways. Would there ever be a moment when he would hope, just as she did, as she readied her pistol, her elegant rapier, strapped and fitted in some sensible clothing, ready to embark on her journey. Kissing her daughter on the forehead, saying her goodbye, hoping it wouldn't be the last she'd ever see Lydia. Ready, finally ready, to take the leap, holding her breath to take the plunge.

* * *

     Logan was slowly killing the people of Albion, and Adalia felt it. It was if she was there. As if she could feel it, feel their pain as if it were her own. Was it her Heroic nature coming to life that made her feel this way? Or was it her guilt? Was it the dreams that plagued her at night, somehow connecting her to Logan's withering spirit? To the withering spirit of her country?

     She contemplated this on her journey through Mistpeak, finding herself at the designated meeting place, intruction left by Walter. Mistpeak Monorail. She would travel west, and seek more allies there, and it was a troublesome walk all the way there. Missing Lydia. Her sweet smile, her infectious laughter, giggling every time Adalia and Sofia would tickle her. Such a simple little thing, and how it warmed her heart. She couldn't live without it. And often she would wonder how she could ever regret what she had done, when it gave her sweet Lydia. But it wasn't just about her anymore, was it? It was about everyone she met. Everyone she helped, befriended, and rescued. Everyone that needed her. All their smiles, all their laughter, and how she desperately needed it. Needed it to turn her away from the sorrows drowning her.

     She saw Logan smile once. Just once, that she remembered, when they were younger. She barely remembered it, what day it was, how old she was, or what she was doing. But she had been playing in her room and looked up, noticing her brother standing in the doorway, smiling. He was very handsome when he smiled, and Adalia had to admit, she'd been smitten with him. But that affection changed. Grew into something much different, much darker, like a poisonous vine that snaked up. Surely there was no going back to that. Surely there was no love between them. Brotherly, sisterly, or otherwise. He'd taken everything from her. If given the chance, perhaps he'd take Lydia as well, if she didn't rip him off the high horse he sat upon.

     She pushed aside the thought of Logan as she climbed the rail to meet Walter over by the station. It had been so long since she'd seen him, though he hardly changed at all. Still gruff, still the same hearty individual he'd always been. He sat on a bench, whistling, then waving her over when he saw her approach.

     "You've changed, little Princess." he remarked, looking her over, making her chuckle. Yes, she had. Shorn hair, hardly a drop of makeup, bags under her eyes, but a fire in her soul. Dressed in a mercenary coat, trimmed in blue, matching trousers, buckled up to the brim, strapped with impressive weapons, and she was far from the trite little girl she had been. Ready to kick in some teeth. Ready to fight. To be a Hero.

     "You haven't." she said with a grin, watching him sigh, then look around.

     "I can never get over this place." he remarked. "Twenty years ago it was just a damp, murky void in the middle of nowhere. Now people queue up to get dangled across it in a steel box." he shuddered at the thought, then stepped toward the edge of the platform, looking out over it at the Monorail. It looked rather eerie, sort of gloomy even, to Adalia. And certainly not safe at all. "And here it comes." she heard him say, just as the whistle blew from across the wide and lengthy tunnel. The car on the track signaling its arrival.

     "Most of the people here will be heading straight to Bowerstone." he commented. "But we're going to take a little detour first. I just hope that-"

     He was cut short when the car started sparking on the rail. The whole cavern shook as well. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Adalia stepped back in shock as the car exploded, then fell from the rail, down to the bottom of the cavern. It was the most horrible thing she'd seen in quite a long time, and the feeling that washed over her equally as dreadful. Most certainly, everyone in that car was dead, and she stifled a gasp, hand covering her mouth in her surprise. Walter quickly ran across the platform and Adalia followed. They had to get down there and find out what happened, sprinting across the walkway to the nearest lift. She heard screams and cries from distraught onlookers, and her heart lept in her chest, stomach winding itself into knots, dreading reaching the bottom to see the lifeless corpses that waited, though hoping to find survivors, if any. Was it horrible to think she'd rather be with Logan at the moment? That's how bad it was.

     No one said being a Hero was easy, you know.

* * *

     In all her days, she never thought she'd find something she despised more than the King of Albion. But she did. Hobbes. She absolutely despised them. And but of course, they were what caused the car to derail, and they were the very things that Adalia and Walter had to fight their way through to get out of the tunnel, the lovely drag of a place called the Hole. By the end of it, she never wanted to set foot in Mistpeak Monorail ever again. If she ever made it to the throne room in Bowerstone, she silently vowed to never reopen the rail as long as she lived. Perhaps maybe cars that ran on the ground, instead of in the air, was a preferred option. Worth consideration at least.

     The incedent at the Monorail was only the beginning, but it was an interesting start anyway. Theresa had advised her that 'a good leader must always be ready to face the unknown and seek new paths'. Well that she certainly did. She and Walter made their way to Mourningwood, a dreary place, and rumored to be quite dangerous come nightfall, and they were lucky that the people they were searching for were even still alive. There, Adalia met the one and only Major Swift, coincidentally one of the few remaining loyal to her father, fought under his command. He, a man by the name of Ben Finn, and many others had been stationed at the fort in Mourningwood, and were up for an alliance after Adalia managed to aid them in dealing some rather 'swift justice' to a legion of Hallow Men that attacked that night. She even got to use a cannon. As Walter would say, it was 'bloody marvelous'. Adalia struck a deal to replace the ruthless men her brother employed, and restore the original royal guard, honorable men that would protect the people, once in office, and she was one step closer.

     Adalia couldn't help but take Walter's words to heart however, when they made their way through the tunnels and sewers of Bowerstone's underbelly, the heart of the Bowerstone Resistance, when he said this was where things would get really ugly. These were the people her brother left behind. These were the people most taxed, drained, and abused by Logan's power. It had been months since she set foot in Bowerstone, and there she was, taking a deep breath, as she watched a demonstration in the Industrial quarter, ready to meet the leaders of the resistance, and a man she'd grow to hate more than the King himself. _Reaver._

     Bowerstone's very own Industrial tycoon, of whom she'd heard stories, but never actually met. Who wasn't above shooting, _repeatedly_ , and killing a worker in cold blood when he preached to his fellows, demanding better working conditions and better pay. And Logan let _this man_ lead his industry? Adalia was outraged. But not more than the resistance leader herself. Page. According to her, Reaver had been bleeding Bowerstone dry for years, but it was never this bad, but as of late, it was _preposterously_ bad. She and Walter explained that a small group of soldiers infiltrated his manor in Millfields, but they never made it out. She believed they were still alive, and hatched a plan to crash his party.

     And what the party it was. The man was as dishonorable as he was distasteful. And Adalia's eyes were opened to the true horrors that waited in the shadows of Albion. It made her despise her so called brother even more than she already did. She managed to make it out alive, but not with Reaver's head, unfortunately. Though it would have looked lovely on her mantle. Not a very Heroic thought though, she imagined.

     Helping the people of Bowerstone, and doing what she could to rescue Page's allies made the rebel leader realize just what sort of person 'the Princess' was, though. Made Adalia realize this as well. That she was nothing like her brother. Funny, that perhaps he'd been right all along. They weren't related at all. She was certain that Adalia would do what was right as ruler of Albion, and would do her part to end poverty, child labor in the Industrial quarter, and make Albion a better place. In turn, Adalia made the promise that she would.

     But things were about to get much worse than she thought. The King was holding a speech at the castle, and Adalia planned to be there.

* * *

     Logan stood out on the balcony of Bowerstone castle, standing in the fog and rain, glaring at the people below, the people that he gathered to hear his words. He stared at their faces, searching for a spark of familiarity, but had yet to see one.

     The so called Resistance of Bowerstone was becoming most problematic recently. It was pure luck that none other than Major Swift practically came waltzing through the door to be apprehended by the King. Brave fellow. Brave, and very _stupid_. Stupid for snooping around in the King's affairs. Logan had been certain for sometime that he had allied with the Hero of Brightwall, but didn't expect to actually see his face. Swift was a tough fellow, and refused to divulge any useful information, regarding to the rebels' base of operation, or the whereabouts of his sister. So he decided to make a display of him, hoping to draw them out, if he couldn't send soldiers in to root them out. If she indeed possessed the audacity, she would be there. He was certain. So he stood before the crowd, high above it, armed guards to either side, as he addressed them, head held high.

     "Yes, there are traitors among us." he said to them. "Traitors plot to end us. Traitors would have you believe their cause is noble...They wear many masks. They may look like your friends...They may even look like your most loyal servants." He scanned the crowd as he spoke. No fiery eyes, no flash of mahogany colored hair, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Swift, bound and prepared for execution. " _This_..." He pointed to Swift. "This is the face of a traitor." he fumed. The guard drug the man up the steps. "Major Swift. A respected member of the army and sworn servant of the kingdom has plotted against us all. He was apprehended attempting to turn loyal soldiers against us, and is thus charged with espionage, treason, and conspiracy." As he informed the crowd of the man's actions, he could see the people growing restless, fearful, and it fueled him. Their fear would make them obedient, and they would not dare rise against him. "Yet, there are still others darkening our land with their betrayal." he said. "We shall hunt these traitors down." he slammed his fist against the wet balcony stone. "Wherever they may be. And they shall suffer the same fate as Major Swift. The fate of all enemies of the crown."

     The sound of gunfire concluded his speech, and Swift was gunned down. Now was the time, if ever, that she show herself. The soft, heartfelt, selfless sister of his, that was becoming a Hero. He knew it to be true. He was most certain that was what she would become. And he welcomed becoming the villain, if only to see her display her true colors. He just wanted proof, wanted to see with his own eyes. See her. Justice was served to the traitorous Major, yet, still he did not see her face, until...

     There. There in the crowd, he saw it. The flash of golden eyes, staring back at his, before she turned and ran, escaping through the crowd along side a blonde haired gentleman. He knew it was her. She looked different. Ghastly short hair, boyish sort of clothes, but it was her. His Adalia. The rising Hero of Albion. His heart leapt in his chest. One day soon they would meet again, and she'd free him from his misery.

     With a bullet to the face.

* * *

     Swift's death hit everyone hard. In a way, he died nobly, in that he hadn't given up the location of the Resistance, otherwise Adalia could assume she'd be dead by now. But it was not in vain. They weren't ready to take on Logan's guard in a forward fight, and they still needed allies. Swift gave them the perfect place to look. He'd managed to get a message to Walter before he was executed. The message was simple, and rather straightforward, much like Swift's personality, gods bless him. 'You will find allies in Aurora'. Adalia had heard of that place. Minor rumors mostly, but as far as she knew it was nothing but arid desert, with small settlements at best. But the sort of people who could survive the harshness of desert, much like the Dwellers survived the cold of Mistpeak...were certainly resilient people.

     Adalia needed to stand for something now more than ever. If she wasn't certain before, she was certain now that Logan needed to be put down. The look in his eyes, the cold bite in his words when he mercilessly executed Swift...it broke Adalia's heart. So to Aurora she would go then. Of course, the question was how to obtain a ship. Walter's plan was a simple one. He and Page would keep the royal fleet busy enough for Adalia and Finn to steal a frigate. A dangerous plan though, if gone wrong. It put them right in the line of fire, and at the wrong end of a blade, should they be caught. It was gutsy, and daring, and...well, just the sort of thing a Hero ought to do, in Adalia's opinion. It's what her father would have done. But, of course, she was not her father. The whole plan, and the thought of what she might find in Aurora, gave her chills. Though she wasn't certain why.

     Something just wasn't right. Something was very wrong about this idea. But, could it really get worse?

     Yes. Yes it could. That night, following the display at Bowerstone Castle, Reaver Industries sent out an accord to noble houses in Millfields. At the behest of the King, Reaver was inviting guests to a party at the palace. A ball, and some of Reaver's closest friends and allies would be there. The King would be there. Everyone would be wearing masks. And therefore so would Adalia. Though it would be more difficult than infiltrating the tycoon's manor overlooking Bower Lake. Security would be tighter than usual, but provided she lose her conspicuous collection of weaponry, magic channeling gauntlets, and changed her manner, she'd fit right in. And hopefully be given the opportunity to put a bullet in her so called brother's swelled head.

     This time? There would be no hesitation.


End file.
